


Consequences

by orphan_account



Series: The Path Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Affairs, Alternate Universe, Deaf Character, Disability, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Rehab, Sign Language, no supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Musicians are told all the time to beware.  Beware of what you will become the moment you find success.  They’re not often warned of what you might become when you don’t."</p><p>Even the most benign choices we make often lead to the most violent consequences.  That holds most true for Dean Winchester.  The moment he thought he was doing right by himself, right by his brother, it all turned upside down.  And it's only through the most terrible acts will he see the future that lay before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> So this massive monster fic is the sequel to Choices (and I'll link them soon). I have a third and possibly fourth planned for this little series of fics. Just note that there are side pairings of Benny/Dean and Meg/Castiel that aren't marked because they aren't major plot points or relationships and only last a few paragraphs. But they are necessary to the plot. Any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks!

Musicians are told all the time to beware. Beware of what you will become the moment you find success. They’re not often warned of what you might become when you don’t.

Dean Winchester should have known. He should have. But he didn’t. And when Benny came home and slipped that needle into his arm, he thought, oh just this once, what could it hurt? He had no idea what he’d really lose.

They’d been in New York for three years. Three years, one semi-successful online album, and then nothing. Crickets. Booking dive-bars and using their rejection letters from studios and agents to roll their joints. 

Garth was the first one to leave. His sister got sick, and he was tired of working tech support for AT&T’s shitty cell phone customers. At least in California he knew people who appreciated the fact that he was a fucking genius. 

No one really fought for him to stay, and it went the same way when Meg left. They moved to a smaller apartment, a tiny two bedroom they could barely afford, Benny in one room, Cas and Dean in the next. It was in the worst neighborhood, too far from Castiel’s school, but it was right around the corner from the bar Dean tended to make ends meet, and Benny got a job at a Jiffy Lube which was barely hanging on since no one in New York really drove.

It was shit.

Dean and Cas never really talked about why they didn’t sleep together anymore. No one said a word when they saw Dean curled up on the couch under his ratty leather coat after a long shift. They just sort of… went about their business.

Sometimes, though, Castiel couldn’t help the comments. “I thought this was going to be different. I thought it was going to be better. I left my family for this.”

“Your family was a piece of shit and you know it.” Dean was drunk and high, which never made for decent, constructive conversation. “Man, fuck you. Don’t lay your shit on me, okay?” He glanced over at the picture of the band on stage. The one taken in Vegas when they thought things were going to be different. When they thought this was it.

Castiel flinched hard when Dean’s fist flew out, missing him by half an inch and collided with the glass. He rolled his eyes when blood started pouring out of Dean’s knuckles, and Dean didn’t say anything as Cas began to rip the shards of glass out of his skin.

When Cas tried to bandage him, Dean shoved him so hard he hit the side of the couch and fell. And I’m sorry touched Dean's tongue, hand grasping his hair, but his lips didn’t move. Cas just stood up and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Collapsing on the side of the bed, Dean put his face in his hands and growled. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not fucked up. Not ugly and broken. Fuck.

“You need to relax, man,” Benny said.

Dean hadn’t seen much of Benny lately. He’d made some new friends, been keeping out of the house lately. He’d lost a lot of weight, his face sort of sallow and gaunt, and Dean had a feeling he’d gotten into something ugly. But he looked a lot more relaxed than Dean felt.

“I just… I just want things to be better, you know?” Dean flopped back against the side of the house and was grateful Cas was at class right then. “He’s like a fucking naggy wife.”

“Look, I got something to help, okay?” Benny yanked Dean up from the couch and pulled him to the bedroom. Benny’s room was thrashed. Take out boxes with left-overs rotting in the corners, half burnt joints sitting on the desk, laundry that hadn’t been washed in months. It was a sty, but Dean didn’t care as he flopped back down onto Benny’s bed, just really goddamn tired.

He only hesitated a moment when Benny began to tie a piece of rubber around his upper arm. Sitting up, Dean glanced over and saw the little baggie, the burnt spoon, the used needle. His face went hot. “Look man I…”

“Have I ever steered you wrong? I know, I’ve seen the PSA shit about this, but you know, they don’t get it, man,” Benny said absently as he flicked open his silver lighter. “It’s… enhancing. It opens up your mind, man, like I’ve never felt before. You wanna be great, you wanna make us great, we gotta open ourselves up.”

Dean wanted to say no. He should have said no. But he didn’t. He winced and felt a rush of panic when the needle slipped into his vein, and the effect was instantaneous. Or… it felt like it, anyway. It was a rush, and there was a weird smell in his nose, and his head spun, like he had the world’s best opiate. And he was tired and energized all at the same time. He was vaguely aware of Benny still sitting there, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly nothing mattered.

He fell back, everything feeling like it was happening in slow motion. It was heaven. It was Nirvana. He wasn’t thinking about Cas, or the band, or his shitty job, or crappy apartment, or the fact that they had no money for food because it all went to their over-priced rent. It was just… so fucking good.

Where had this been all his life, and how could it possibly be that bad?

He lost track of time, and woke when Castiel kicked him in the calf with his hard, winter boot. Dean peered one eye open and groaned. It felt like he’d been run over by a truck, and fuck he wanted another hit. God, sober was so fucking painful.

Holding the side of his head, he got up and fought down the urge to vomit all over their dirty carpet. “What the fuck?” Dean groaned.

“You’ve been asleep for like twelve hours. You missed your shift at the bar. Message on your phone says you’re fired,” Cas said, very little inflection in his voice.

“Yeah well… fuck them,” Dean muttered. He stumbled for the bathroom, catching himself on the door jamb as he flipped on the light. The harsh, naked bulb hurt, and he wanted to know where Benny was. He didn’t want to live like this. Not when peace was right around the corner.

He turned on the shower and let the room fill with steamy air, sitting on the edge of the toilet with his head against the cold sink. The white noise of the falling water and steam surrounded him. He didn’t wake until Castiel kicked the door open and splashed water in his face.

“Are you fucking high? What’s wrong with you?” Cas nearly shouted.

Dean, gasping and spluttering, shoved Cas backward. “What the fuck, man?”

“You passed out. You’ve been in here with the fucking water running for two hours! What did you take?”

Dean shoved past Cas, elbowing him hard. “Leave me alone.”

“No,” Cas said, grabbing on to Dean’s sleeve. Dean turned, hand raised and clenched as though he was going to punch him in the face. When Cas winced, his face frightened, Dean pulled back.

“Just leave me the fuck alone. I’m going to find Benny.” He grabbed his wallet, phone, and coat, and left. He had enough sense not to drive Baby, she was too important to destroy. It was fucking freezing outside, nearing zero he was sure, but he didn’t care. He barely felt it.

He texted Benny and waited, hunkered down in the alley near the bar for a half hour before Benny texted back. It was an address, six blocks away. With the promise of another hit, another short poke to make it all go away, he found the energy to walk.

Benny didn’t disappoint.

They were gone for four days.

Hunger drew Dean out of his stupor. He wasn’t sure where he was, whose apartment he was in, or who the dudes passed out on the floor were. He smelled like vomit and incense, and he was hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he had something in his stomach. Well before he left Cas.

Cas.

Fuck.

The memory of how he left the man he loved hit him like a ton of bricks to the gut, and he almost threw up on his shoes. Finding his coat, phone, and with a few bucks in his wallet, he left. There was a taco bell on the corner, blending into the New York scenery like it should belong there, Dean stopped and grabbed a burrito. As hungry as he was, after three bites he tossed it, the heavy food making him feel even worse.

When he made it to the apartment, he stepped in and glanced around. It was clean. Scrubbed clean. It smelled like pine-sol and comet, and the carpets were slightly damp from being shampooed. It was Castiel’s doing. They hadn’t been evicted yet, his key still worked.

He could hear shuffling around in the back room, and he made his way to the bedroom he and Cas shared. His one-time lover was packing his books into his back pack. His shoulders went stiff and tense when Dean opened the door, but he didn’t look up.

“Hey,” Dean said quietly. His voice sounded strange, hollow and raspy. His body was beginning to ache and all he really wanted was a hot shower, cooked meal and a good, long sleep. And maybe forgiveness, because what he’d done to Cas well…

“Can we talk?” he asked once it became clear Cas had nothing to say.

“I have class in an hour.” Castiel’s voice was clipped, angry and hurt, and Dean couldn’t blame him for wanting to rush out. But he needed Cas to understand that he was sorry. That he… that he hadn’t meant it. Fuck, he loved this guy, he really did.

“I know look please just… just give me like five minutes, okay?”

Cas finally looked up and whatever it was he saw on Dean’s face, he winced. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah I uh… I’m going to shower. I promise, just a quick one, then we can talk. I know you don’t owe me shit but…”

“Just go.” He sounded defeated, but Dean knew Cas would stay to hear him out.

Grabbing a towel from the hall closet, Dean stepped into the freshly scrubbed bathroom, reveling in the smell of clean things. Bits and pieces of the last few days came back, like puzzle pieces with nothing to fit into. It was all filth and dirt, hot spoons and dirty needles. Dean had puked more times than he cared to remember, most of it ugly, green bile.

His stomach ached as he reached over to turn on the water. Shedding his coat to the floor, not sure how he was going to get the smell out of leather, he turned to the mirror and realized why Castiel had winced. He looked like death. His skin was yellow, eyes blackened, lips cracked and bleeding in one spot. He looked like he’d been to hell in back. He fucking felt like it.

Hating everything about what he saw, Dean turned away and stepped under the hot stream of water. It hurt. The piss-poor water pressure hurt his skin as he scrubbed off with the bar of soap. The shampoo barely lathered against the grease in his hair, but after rinsing and repeating three more times, he finally felt clean. He felt somewhat human again.

He knew his time was limited, and as much as he wanted to just stay in the shower and let all the grime from his binge flow down the drain, he couldn’t. He needed to talk to Cas. He couldn’t let things fester like this. He didn’t want to lose him.

Toweling off his hair and face, Dean wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped back into the bedroom where Cas was waiting. He had a cup of tea steeping on the nightstand, and Dean’s heart clenched when he realized it was for him. Fuck, he was such a piece of shit.

Cas’ eyes raked up and down Dean’s body wordlessly as Dean rummaged through his drawers for a fresh t-shirt and sweat pants. Dean noticed his eyes stop on his arms, and he instinctively covered the bruising there.

“Heroin? Really?” Castiel sounded pissed, his voice quiet and low. “Of all things Dean…”

“Look Benny said…” Dean trailed off and huffed a laugh. “Ah fuck, I don’t even know where that son of a bitch is, and yeah okay, I know it was stupid.”

Castiel rose and approached Dean, keeping his distance, but it was clear he wanted to be heard. “You shared needles with junkies, Dean. Do you realize that?”

Dean lowered his eyes. That hadn’t occurred to him, stupidly, and he suddenly felt his stomach lurch. Jesus, he really, really fucked up. “Look I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to save your ass if you contracted HIV. Tell me you and I haven’t… not since…” Castiel’s mouth went dry.

“No. This was um… this was the first time,” Dean said, scratching the back of his head. “And I swear, I’m done with it. I swear.”

Cas sighed as Dean moved to the bed and sniffed the tea. Chamomile, with a little honey. He sipped it, and his stomach rebelled, but it felt soothing all the same. “I might not be staying.” Dean’s eyes snapped to Castiel’s face, who looked pained and sorry, but determined. “I need to think about some things. This is… this situation, drugs or no, is toxic. We’re dying here, and that’s not why I came out here with you. I can’t… I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, taking it like a blow to the gut.

“We need to figure something out. I have class,” he said with a sigh, checking his phone, “but when I come back, we’re going to talk it out, okay? I’m dead serious though, you can’t use that shit anymore. One more time, and I’m gone. I’ve already talked to the school and they can get me into housing before the weekend if need be. I won’t put up with this. You’re better than that.”

His last words rang out long after he’d gone, and Dean flopped back on the bed. Was he, though? Was he really? Better than what, exactly? How could Castiel possibly understand what it was like? Sure, Cas understood familial rejection. He’d been given the brush-off by all of his siblings, including Naomi and Gabriel. He’d suffered, been used and looked over, but he didn’t understand Dean.

He didn’t understand being blamed for the death of his mother. Carrying around that weight, that guilt. Knowing if things had gone a little different he might have lost Sammy, too. Knowing that he was solely responsible for making sure Sammy had food, clothes, and education, and knowing when to walk away.

Last time he’d heard from Bobby, Sammy’d been accepted to Stanford and had started his first semester there in August. He was going to be a lawyer, Bobby said. Dean laughed and cried, proud and violently jealous when he thought about his life. Dive bars and roaches. 

Castiel could insist that Dean was better, deserved better, but the universe obviously thought differently.

00000

Things actually went well for the first couple of days. There were moments when Dean was frustrated, when he wanted to just throw up his hands and say, “Fuck it, fuck you. I’m out.” But he didn’t. He did what he could to keep their apartment clean, food cooked, and Cas happy. He made an appointment at the clinic down the street to get his blood screened, using the last of his cash and though they said it was so early they might not have been able to pick up on every possible infection, so far he looked okay.

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. So far so good. 

Benny had stayed away, too. Probably felt pretty guilty about what he’d dragged Dean into. Cas didn’t mention it, but when Benny was gone, things were a little easier. For now, Cas wasn’t moving out, and Dean was looking for a new job.

But that didn’t come easy. The economy sucked, they all told him. Employers were flooded with requests by over-qualified people who’d lost their jobs in the corporate market. There just wasn’t anything. Dean was broke. Castiel had only a little savings left which wasn’t going to cut it for long. If they lost the apartment, Cas had somewhere to go, but Dean would be out.

And then what? Back to that one-horse town to live with Bobby. Returning with his tail between his legs like the fucking failure he always knew he would be? Working back at the garage slogging away under cars, covered in grease, remembering their short glory days of belting away on stage for the world to hear them.

Fuck, how had things gone so damn wrong?

Benny came back on Wednesday night, the night Cas had his late class. It was almost six, and Dean had just pulled some pork chops out of the oven. It wasn’t much, a side of canned green beans and a box of the fifteen cent mac’n’cheese from the bodega around the corner, but it was food, and he had to be grateful for it when he had it.

He jumped in surprise when the front door open, not expecting Cas for at least two more hours. When his eyes fell on Benny’s haggard face, he took a step back. “Man… you probably shouldn’t be here,” Dean said.

“Yeah. Yeah I figured. I fucked up badly, didn’t I?”

“He almost left,” Dean said, turning away from Benny. Turning off the oven, he wiped his hands on a dishtowel and grimaced at how domestic he felt. A kept man, forced to kiss ass for Castiel’s meager funds just so he could stay alive, stay fed. He swallowed down bile and shook his head. “You come for your stuff?”

“I have money,” Benny said. He slapped a wad of dirty cash down next to one of the clean dinner plates. It was quite a bit, several twenties. Dean eyed it greedily as Benny offered out his hands in surrender. “I swear, I just wanted to help. You mean the world to me, Winchester. I don’t wanna lose our friendship. We still have a chance brother, you know, to make it?”

Dean let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Are you shitting me right now? Do you realize it’s been three years since we’ve had a real gig? Three years. I’m tired of playing for free drinks. Everyone’s fucking gone, man. Everyone. Hell, Cas is barely with me anymore, and I fuck up one more time and I can kiss everything we have goodbye.”

“We could hit the road,” Benny said slowly.

Dean hated the way that idea made his eyes light up. He hated the way the idea of just packing up and going somewhere else, to try again, to give it one more shot, felt so fucking good. He knew Cas would never go for it, though. And fuck he loved him.

“Not an option,” he finally said. He hated himself a little for grabbing the cash off the table and shoving it into his pocket, but he was far beyond shame now.

Benny sighed and shrugged. “I get it, brother, I do. But… but we got nothing here and what’s the point? Rotting away like this? We need to go west coast, man. It’s where they all go to make it, to be seen, to be heard. We could do Vegas or LA, you know we could!”

Dean’s face colored a little and he swallowed thickly. “It’s just…”

“You got baby, and I can come up with some cash. Cas can follow us when he’s done! There’s nothing keeping him here once school’s over. And think about it, Dean-o. Think about it. If we’re established, regular gigs, paying jobs, a decent life, why would he say no?”

Maybe he was crazy, but Benny was talking sense, and the big man could see it. He could see it in Dean’s eyes, so he beckoned him down the hall to his room. Cas had cleaned that, too. Gone were the old bottles, rotting food boxes, and burnt joints. The bed was made, the laundry was stuffed into bags, and the floor was clean.

Benny didn’t seem to notice, though, as he threw down his bag on the bed and pulled off his cabbie hat. “I got a friend in LA man, a good friend. He’s got the hook up all over town. I make one call and we got four gigs at least. Won’t take us no time to find replacements. We can put an ad out online.”

Dean found himself sitting, nodding, listening. His head was spinning with the possibilities of it all. Yeah. Yeah they could do that. They could go and use Benny’s contact and they could make it work. Fuck. Fuck yeah.

 

All the while, Benny was loading a spoon. Dean almost absently took the rubber and tied it around his arm, like he’d been doing it for years. The bruises had barely begun to fade, but he was already gone. He was lost. The needle hit first, that sting, and then the rush. Fuck it felt like forever since he’d felt good.

Benny was next, and they were so fucking high Dean forgot where he was. He laid back on Benny’s bed and though he was talking, his voice sounded like it was coming from above them. “We can be great. We were destined to be great,” he was saying.

Benny was nodding. He laid down next to Dean, his foot kicking the stuff onto the floor, and he put his hand behind his head. “Yeah man. We really will. We gotta pick ourselves up and just go man. Just go.”

Dean’s mouth was dry, but it didn’t matter. He looked over at Benny and watched his huge chest go up and down. It was a beautiful rhythm. A gorgeous rhythm. How had Dean never seen it before?

His hand crept out and touched Benny’s chest. Benny sucked in his breath and looked over at Dean, his eyes half-lidded and warm. Dean’s fingers crept down, fascinated by Benny’s shift in expression. Dean couldn’t remember where he was or why they were there, but it felt so fucking right.

His high was hard and encompassing and he felt like he was floating. His hand crept beneath the waistband of Benny’s jeans now, marveling at the hardness there as he took Benny’s dick in his fingers and pumped it. The way Benny gasped was almost melodic, and Dean couldn’t help himself from grinning.

Benny’s hands returned the favor moments later, springing Dean’s rock-hard cock from his zipper and touching him with hesitant hands. Fuck yeah. He wasn’t sure he said it aloud, but Benny seemed to respond.

And then there was a rush of cold air, and Dean was on the floor. He was being kicked, hard. A hand hauled him to his feet and a fist hit his face before he was able to focus on the assailant. It was Castiel, and he was crying openly, and punching him over and over.

Dean felt his eye swell first as reality hit him hard, furiously as Castiel barreled into him with his knuckles. His lip split, cheek burst open, and he was sure a rib or two was broken. His hand curled around Castiel’s wrist, and the wailing stopped.

“I gave up everything for you,” he spat. “Everything.” He dropped Dean, who fell to his knees.

“Cas,” he gasped through the pain. “Please.”

“Fuck you, Dean. I’m gone.”

“Cas please!” Dean cried as the brunette shoved past him. He tried to crawl after him, but his battered limbs wouldn’t obey. He could hear Cas grabbing his things. It didn’t take him long, meaning he was ready for this. He had known this was going to happen and he had prepared.

Dean’s heart clenched as he hauled himself up and leaned on the door frame. Cas was at the front door and he stopped, only long enough for Dean to say, “I need you, Cas.”

But he was gone. And this time, Dean knew, he wouldn’t be back.

When Dean turned around, Benny was long gone, and Dean was alone. He was alone, his limp cock hanging out of his jeans, dripping blood on the floor from his wounds, and he was completely and totally alone. 

This was it. He’d hit rock bottom and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It was over. He was done.

00000

It was cold out, and his fingertips were blue, but he didn’t care. Didn’t really notice anymore. He’d spent the last of his cash on the little baggy in his pocket, and he was saving it. Saving it until he really fucking needed it, which really, was all the time.

Dean caught a passing glimpse of his reflection in the Impala window and he tried not to hurl. He was emaciated. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, but he just didn’t feel hungry anymore. His hands shook all the time now, his fingernails long, filthy and ugly. 

He slammed the door of the Impala and wrapped the heavy quilt he’d stolen from a donation bin around his shoulders. She was beginning to smell now, his Baby. He’d been living in her for about two years now, in Portland, though he occasionally gave Seattle a try, but the soup kitchens there were stingy and the dealers even more so.

But winter had hit the northern states hard, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to take it this time around. He’d finally given in and pawned his guitar. His precious guitar, almost as precious as Baby, but that was the last thing he owned that was worth anything. All of his equipment was gone. So were most of his clothes, his leather jacket, the TV he took with him when he left the apartment in New York.

He needed a way to get cash, a way to get out of this mess. He needed warmer weather, maybe a place to crash. So he’d fallen off the grid for a year, so what? He briefly remembered Sammy. Sammy, who was only a few hours away. Sammy. Dean had always taken care of Sammy, so why wouldn’t his kid brother return the favor, right? Right?

Rummaging through the glove box, Dean pulled out a scrap of paper he’d scribbled Sam’s address on. It was something Bobby’d given him when Dean called the day he left New York.

“I know you’re into something you shouldn’t be, boy, but if you ain’t gonna come to me for help, look up your brother.” 

Dean had said yeah sure, and that was that, but he hadn’t ever intended on bothering his brother with his money problems. Sam, the soon-to-be lawyer. Sam, the smart one. The attractive one. The one who walked away from their shit childhood unscathed.

But hell, Dean was out of cash, out of luck, and he just need a… a place.

Baby started up with a little bit of a cough, but soon enough she was purring and back on the road. Dean swerved a few times on the highway, nearly falling asleep at the wheel. He hadn’t had proper rest in… he couldn’t remember when, but he had a destination. He had somewhere to be.

When he reached Sam’s place, it was nearly midnight. It was a house, something Dean wasn’t expecting. Three cars sat out front, which meant Sam was sharing with a few of his college buddies. How quaint. How nice it must be to afford a white picket fence, and regular weekly groceries.

Dean felt bile rise into his throat, as bitter as his emotions were right then. He cleared his throat and realized he couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t lay all his shit on Sam. Not like this. He’d just go in and… borrow—yeah borrow—just a little cash. He’d pay him back. He’d head to LA and get started there. He’d get a place, shower, get a job. He just needed a leg up is all.

Despite his drug-fogged mind, Dean was still good at some things. Like getting in and out of a house undetected. The kitchen window was really small, but Dean had lost so much weight he slid through without a problem. He walked through the house and pocketed a few things he could sell. Cell phones, iPod, few electrical cords that went for a quarter a piece at any decent pawn shop.

What Dean hadn’t considered that like Dean, Sam had been trained. Trained to listen for stuff like this. Trained to know when something wasn’t right. Unfortunately Dean was to engrossed in the china hutch—and really who has a china hutch these days—to hear Sam pad down the stairs with a bat.

He didn’t notice it until the bat came swinging and he dodged only enough to let the bat clip him on the shoulder instead of the back of the head. He went down with a thud. “Fuck! Sammy?”

“Dean?” His brother’s voice was even deeper now, confused and in total shock.

Dean let out a puff of air as he struggled to his feet. The fall to the ground hadn’t done his weak condition any favors, and he almost laughed. “Fuck man, you almost killed me.”

“Yeah, I did,” Sam said, leaning the bat against the wall. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I uh…” Dean said and scratched the back of his head. “Came by. You know, to say hi.”

Sam reached over and flipped on the kitchen light, making Dean wince. Sam looked the same, yet so much older, so totally different. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, knowing exactly what Sam meant. “Look, I just came by to say hi, see how you were and shit…”

But Sam’s eyes fell to the floor where a few of the procured items had fallen out of Dean’s pockets. Sam’s gaze went dark as he stared at Dean’s face. “So what is it? Drugs? You into someone for money?”

Dean licked his lips. “Nah man, nothing like that.”

“Really? Because you look like a walking skeleton,” Sam retorted.

“You’re just jealous because you got a little fat,” Dean snapped back.

“So drugs,” Sam said. “Dean I… how? How could you get into a mess like this?”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Like you’d understand. Sammy and his silver fucking spoon. Sammy and his precious law school. Man… fuck you man, okay? You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Apparently not, if stealing from your brother is your only option,” Sam said. And then he turned and stormed out of the room.

Dean swiftly bent down and picked up the fallen items, intent on running because it was more than likely Sam was calling the cops. But a second later, his brother returned. Grabbing Dean by the collar, he hauled him to the front door and opened it, shoving him out into the street.

His eyes fell on the Impala and Sam let out a breath. “Well at least you have some sense.”

Dean grunted a response.

With a deep breath, Sam shoved a wad of cash into Dean’s filthy hand and took a step back. “Steal from me again, and I’ll hold you down until the cops get here. If you have any sense Dean, you’ll get your shit together and get clean. I don’t want your funeral to be the next place I see you.”

Dean flipped Sam off, but held the cash tightly in his fist and backed up, almost tripping over the small step leading down to the street.

“Just so you know, you smell like a toilet,” Sam called after Dean.

When Sam went in and the door shut, Dean muttered, “Well you look like one,” but there was no fire in his voice. Sam wasn’t wrong, and deep down, Dean knew it. But he was just fucked up. There were no other words for it.

With a fresh wad of twenties in his hand, Dean knew that he’d be able to do okay for a while. It wouldn’t last forever, but that was a problem for another day.

00000

Four days, and Sam still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Dean. Dean, who had been his hero his entire life. Dean, who’d gone off to follow his dream, was now some drugged-out homeless dude living in his car.

Sam felt sick. His roommates noticed something was wrong, but no one bothered him about it. Sam was occasionally subject to bouts of rage, and considering he was the size of a moose on steroids, no one wanted to piss him off.

He sat at the kitchen table, staring down at a piece of paper with a phone number on it and the words, in case it gets really bad, written in Bobby’s chicken scratch. It was John Winchester’s number. The paper was starting to curl from the sweat on Sam’s hand, but he didn’t let it go.

Was it really bad? Bobby had seen this coming, tried to warn Sam, but Sam wanted to give Dean the benefit of the doubt. So what he hadn’t heard from his brother in about five years. So what. Dean was out there living his dream. He might not be on TV, or headlining concerts, but Dean was smart and talented. There was no way he couldn’t make it.

But now…

Sam’s hands shook as he gripped the phone and punched in the numbers. What choice did he have, really?

00000

Dean managed to find a dealer by the next day, and five days later, he was almost completely out of cash again. He was at a bar, drunk and high, racking up a tab he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to afford. The bartender seemed pretty weary at his filthy state, but the wad of cash spoke louder than his smell, so he kept serving him.

He was nursing his sixth beer when a hand fell on his shoulder. Jumping, Dean’s eyes snapped on a face he was sure he’d never see again. A little fatter, a little older, and much more grey, was John Winchester.

White-hot rage flooded through Dean as he scrambled back away from his absent father. “What… the fuck?”

“We need to talk, son.”

A rumble of laughter filled the room as Dean opened his mouth and shook his head. “Son? Oh that’s rich. That’s fucking rich, old man.” His voice was high and hysterical, and he gripped the barstool, ready to bash John over the head if he needed to.

But then Sammy walked up beside their so-called father. “You called him?” Dean’s voice was heavy with betrayal, shaking and low.

“You didn’t leave me much choice.”

“Oh? Is that right? You mean you didn’t have the choice to just leave me the fuck alone?”

It was at that moment they were kicked out. The bartender could see the fight brewing, and it was clear he wanted none of it. Dean stormed out, Sam and John close on his heels, and before he could protest, Sam grabbed him and John took the keys to the Impala.

“Oh the hell you’re driving my car you son of a bitch,” Dean snarled, but he was weak. Too weak to stop Sam from shoving him into the passenger seat, and too weak to fight John who started the car and drove off.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean finally asked as they hit the open road.

“Getting you help,” John said. “Right now I’m not even sure where to begin. First you start shooting up, then you’re stealing from Sam? I know I taught you better than that.”

Dean threw back his head and roared. “Taught me better? Taught me better? Is that a joke? The only thing you taught me was that I was the piece of shit responsible for killing mom and ruining your life. The rest, how to survive and raise a kid brother who never asked for any of this, I learned on my own.”

John went quiet and swallowed. “I know I never did right by you boys but—”

And he had more to say, he really did. A lot more, and Dean, deep down, needed to hear it. But right then a Semi ran a stop sign, going at least fifty, and plowed right into the driver’s side. It was almost surreal how it happened. John was looking at Dean, Dean at John. Sam had his eyes down. The semi made impact, Sam’s door opening involuntarily and sending him hurtling out into the street. The car was rushed into the stop sign, pinning Dean, and John well…

There wasn’t much left of him.

It could hardly be considered irony, but coincidence? Maybe. Fucked up? Most definitely.

00000

Sam woke with a gasp in the back of the ambulance to a team of people surrounding his brother. They were giving him oxygen through a mask, and someone was screaming something about his BP. The other paramedic said something about a spine injury, but Sam’s head was swimming. Blood was on his face, sticky and warm, and someone was holding him down as he tried to get up. He was in shock. His left hand wasn’t moving right, and somewhere his brain told him the wrist was broken, but he couldn’t feel it. 

By the time they got to the ER, part of the shock had worn off. Dean was rushed off in one direction, and Sam in the other. He was terrified. He had no idea where John was, where they were taking Dean, what was happening. What had happened, anyway.

“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Winchester.” A man in a white coat came into his room after they’d finished putting a cast on his wrist and stitching up his head. “Looks like you don’t have a concussion, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t take a pretty decent blow to the head.”

They’d given him something for pain, so he was woozy, but coming to more and more. “My brother. Where… where’s my brother?”

“Surgery,” the doctor said. His face was grim, but not the kind of grim where Dean was sure to die. It was the grim like the injuries were pretty damn bad and right then, Sam wasn’t sure which was worse.

“And my dad?”

Now that was the face Sam didn’t want to see. Not now. Not when… 

He swallowed thickly as the doctor said, “I’m afraid he was pronounced dead on scene, Mr. Winchester. From what the report says, he took the brunt of the impact. I’m so sorry.”

Sam’s mouth was painfully dry as he waved the apology off. “I want to see my brother.”

“When he’s out of surgery and in recovery, we’ll see,” the doctor said somberly. 

Sam pursed his lips and sat on the edge of the bed. He had blood on his shirt, and his head was throbbing, but he was okay. He stood, testing his legs, and he knew he was going to be sore as hell the next day, but that was okay. He was standing and walking and he just wanted to know that Dean was okay. John well… he could deal with that later.

“My brother’s an addict.” The words came from nowhere as his doctor started to write something down on a piece of paper. The doctor’s head snapped up and he looked at Sam hard. “Heroin, I think. My dad um…” his voice tightened and he cleared his throat. “My dad and I were taking him to rehab when the truck hit us. He’s… he’s bad.”

“We know,” the doctor replied after a moment. “We saw the track marks and we’re taking care with him. He should come out of the surgery fine.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

The doctor hesitated but eventually said, “Spinal damage, severe concussion, six broken ribs, fractured collar bone, and severe blood loss.”

Sam nodded, but he only heard two words. Spinal damage. “Will he walk again?”

There was a pause, just a breath, and then, “We’re not sure.”

00000

“Mr. Winchester, please!” A woman called after him with a surprisingly deep, husky voice. Sam turned his head slightly and saw a woman with dark blonde hair laying down over her shoulders, in a slim skirt and suit jacket, hurrying over to him. Her heels made a soft clicking on the floor, and she was panting when she finally reached his side. “Mr. Winchester, my name is Naomi.”

Sam glanced at her badge. Hospital employee, not a doctor, so he didn’t care. “I’m busy.”

“I know,” she said, and put her hand on his arm as he started to walk away. “I’m a grief counselor and I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Tonight was the first time I’ve seen my father in about sixteen years. Trust me, I mourned him a long time ago.”

Naomi’s lips stretched back into a tight smile and she shook her head. “I’m here to talk to you about your brother.” Sam instantly went white as a sheet and she quickly amended, “Not death, Mr. Winchester, but about his accident.”

Sam swallowed and crossed his arms, pulling away from her hand. “Look lady, can we not do this right now? I’m really um…”

“Overwhelmed, I understand,” she said. “I’ll be in touch soon, but I just wanted you to know I’m here if you need me.”

Sam gave a brief nod and hurried away from her. He didn’t need to think about grief right then. Or injuries. Or Dean. Or John.

He found himself hurtling outside some back door. He was standing on some sort of loading dock next to huge dumpsters, and off to the right looked like a giant metal building emitting smoke into the air. With a sick pang, Sam realized it was probably the medical waste incinerator. Body parts and fluids and other things. His head spun and he bent over at the waist to calm himself down.

This was not how he envisioned his night going, not what he’d asked for. He wanted help, he wanted Dean to get help. He didn’t want to lose his father, he didn’t want his brother confined to a… a… he couldn’t even think it. Not yet. Not right now.

It suddenly hit him all at once, the fear, the loss, the rage, the confusion, and he found himself almost floating above his body as he stormed up to the wall and began to punch it. Left. Right. Left. Right. A bone in his broken hand under the soft cast cracked, but he barely felt it. Adrenaline was surging and he was hitting, harder and harder. The skin over his knuckles split and began to bleed. It was arm and hot, and he didn’t stop until strong hands hauled him backward.

Sam flailed for a moment, fists swinging, but the short, dirty blonde-haired man held his wrists tightly until he got a hold of himself. Breathing hard, Sam stilled and focused on the man standing in front of him with a white lab coat. His badge said he was a doctor.

“Woah there kiddo, you okay?” His voice was pinched, nasal, but oddly soothing.

Sam found his head shaking back and forth and he winced as the pain in his hands hit him suddenly. “I um… I don’t think I am.” He gave a slight laugh and shook his head again.

The doctor’s eyes peered down at the hospital bracelet around his wrist. “Oh you came in with the accident. Spinal injury?”

Sam swallowed and nodded. “My brother.”

“He’s out of surgery now. We need to get you cleaned up. I’m Doctor Novak, but call me Gabe, okay?”

Sam licked his lips and nodded, following Gabe inside. 

“Since you haven’t been officially discharged I can treat your hands without getting myself fired, but you really might want to save that for the gym,” Gabe said as he pulled Sam into a vacant room and flipped a little tab on the top of the door. “Sit.” He pointed to the bed and Sam obeyed.

He disappeared for moments, and returned with a small cart full of cotton, little white paper packages and some other stuff Sam didn’t recognize. Gabe checked the wounds and made a tisk with his tongue.

“You didn’t break anything, and you don’t need stitches, but you did some damage.”

Sam gave a shrug as some stinging liquid was applied, and the wounds were cleaned and wrapped. He felt uncomfortable with both hands now bandaged, but it didn’t matter. “I want to see my brother.”

“I’m sure you do. He’s in ICU right now, and if you give the nurses like ten minutes to get him set up, you can go in. I’ll even put a good word in for you, okay?”

The blood drained from Sam’s face and he sucked in a breath. “ICU?”

“Okay kiddo, okay, he’s in a medically induced coma right now. Honestly I shouldn’t be telling you all this, I’m not his attending physician, but eh…” Gabe waved a hand. “I’m just a resident anyway.” He grinned, but Sam didn’t respond. “They need to give his back time to heal, and your big bro’s a fighter. Gave them a lot of trouble in the ambulance and he could have made his injury very permanent if he struggled anymore. They gotta keep him knocked out so he has a chance at flexing those legs again, okay?”

Sam let out a breath and nodded. “So he’s not um… uh…”

“I wish I could answer that, but we won’t know much until he has time to heal.”

Sam swallowed against the lump in his throat and cleared it. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Gabe’s hand squeezed Sam’s upper arm hard. The pressure was comforting, real in this shitty situation of knowing Dean was just laying there in that bed, possibly paralyzed, and his dad’s body was somewhere in the hospital morgue, rotting. Jesus.

“You want a coffee or something?” Gabe made a vague gesture with his hands, both fists closed, one rubbing over the other. It looked familiar. In fact, everything about Gabe was a little familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it right then.

“Um… um no. No I just… I think I need to see my brother. And um… I need to make a phone call.” 

Gabe looked slightly pained, but didn’t say anything as Sam wandered off down the hall, fumbling with his cell phone and trying to remember how to pull up Bobby’s number. He was half-out of it when Bobby picked up.

“There’s been an accident.”

It was all Sam needed to say, and the line was dead, and he knew Bobby would be on his way. Dean would probably kill him for involving their surrogate father, but who the fuck cares what Dean thought anyway? He was the recovering addict trying not to die.

Sam realized that might complicate things. The doctors pumping morphine or whatever into his IV. I mean, what would that do? They were aware of it, yes, but… but what could it mean for him? For his recovery?

“I know you said you didn’t want this but…” Gabe thrust a paper cup at Sam who took it and smiled. “It’s crap, it’s from the break room, but it’s something.”

Sam sipped the bitter brew and grimaced, but he was grateful to have something to distract him. “Thanks.” He found himself falling down into a chair in an empty waiting room without really being sure where exactly he was. Some sign pointed to Oncology, but he wasn’t even sure what that was. He glanced over at Gabe and tried to recall where he knew the guy from.

“The concert,” Gabe said, as though reading his mind. When Sam quirked an eyebrow, Gabe said, “You keep staring. Besides, I was going to tell you that as much as it’s probably not the best idea, I’m going to call my brother.”

“Brother?”

“Castiel.”

Both Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You’re Castiel’s brother? But aren’t all his brothers um…” He tapped his ear.

“Ah just me and Cassie are hearing,” Gabe said with a wave of his hand. “We never officially met, but I was the one he dragged to your concert all those years ago. When you were a young whipper snapper in high school.”

Sam barked a laugh and shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah that was… those were…”

“Better times?” Gabe offered, and when Sam nodded he said, “Yeah, tell me about it. Castiel’s going to be pissed to hear about this.”

“Do you have any idea what happened between them?”

Gabe licked his lips and sighed. “Cas and I aren’t as close as we had been, but he mentioned it a few times. He graduated and moved out here, but whatever happened between him and Dean, well… he wasn’t ever the same.”

“And did he… was he…” Sam cleared his throat. “Drugs?”

Gabe made an ‘ah’ face and shook his head. “If he was, it wasn’t for long. I think that’s what might have done it for those two. In the end.” Gabe reached into the pocket of his over-bleached, over-starched lab coat and pulled out a snickers. He offered some to Sam, but the younger Winchester shook his head and sat back in thought.

The drugs would make sense. Hell, he wanted to strangle Dean when the idiot broke into his house to rob him, he could only imagine what it must have been like to live with him, to watch his downward spiral. Sam rubbed his face and sighed. “You think it’s okay if I try and see him now?”

Gabe checked his phone and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably good. I’m gonna hang back though, if you don’t mind?”

Sam stood and took a moment to appreciate everything Gabe had just done for a guy who was a virtual stranger. Must be a doctor thing, he figured. He offered a tense smile to Gabe, unsure how to say goodbye to him, so he simply walked off toward the ICU.

0000

There was a soft knock on the door and Sam’s head snapped up. He’d been dozing in the world’s most uncomfortable chair, which could loosely be described as a recliner. Dean was still being kept in the medically induced coma, but the doctor was confident in the way Dean’s brain-waves remained steady, and some spots on his legs were responsive to stimuli. 

When Sam looked at the door, his heart jumped into his throat. It was Bobby, looking like he’d driven the eighteen hours straight. He had circles under his eyes and his hat was hanging by a loop on the waist of his jeans. His face was drawn and it was clear he knew everything.

“The doc workin’ on your brother told me everything. They actually called me about two hours ago to identify your dad.” His voice was hoarse, tense. Frustrated.

Sam nodded mutely as Bobby crossed the room, and neither of them spoke as Bobby threw his arms around Sam and they just sort of held each other. The pain was intense, the worry even worse, and Sam wasn’t sure what to say.

“They want you to go down there with me, to sign a release. Dean was still listed as John’s emergency contact, which makes you next in line.”

Bile rose in Sam’s throat at the thought of that, but he was an adult now. He’d do what he had to. “Yeah. Yeah okay,” he said.

“They say when he’s gonna wake up?”

Sam shook his head as he glanced back at Dean’s battered, bruised body. “Sometime this week, I think. I think they’re trying to ride out his withdrawals. Any sudden movement could injure his spine even worse.”

Bobby nodded. “Stupid idjit.”

The words were filled with so much pain, and Sam fought back tears. But it was the truest words spoken. Dean really was such a stupid idiot.

0000

They buried John without ceremony. Sam had some cash, and Bobby supplied whatever Sam didn’t have and they got it taken care of. Just a plaque in the ground. The grass would eventually grow around it, consuming it. Sam knew he’d never go there. What was the point? John hadn’t ever really cared.

Dean woke five days after John was put in the ground. He was groggy and drugged, but the doctors were confident he would be past the more difficult part of his drug withdrawal and would be able to cope and understand his current level of limitations.

For the most part, they were right. It took a good two days for Dean to become fully coherent, and when Sam sat down by the bed to explain, the older Winchester nodded. He was strapped down to the bed still, immobile, and he didn’t struggle. 

“Do you… do you want to talk about anything?”

Dean let out a sigh and rubbed his face. “No,” he finally said. “Actually can you just go? I’m tired.”

Sam wanted to argue, but a look from Bobby told him to just comply. Dean needed to deal, and he’d never been great with his feelings. They hadn’t told him about John yet, and for now, that was probably best. Bobby decided to head back to the hotel and Sam, though he had class, and a pile of homework which he hadn’t touched over the last week, decided to stay. Just in case his brother needed him.

“Hey kiddo, how you holding up?” The voice was slightly familiar, and Sam turned in the uncomfortable hospital cafeteria booth to see Gabe standing there in street clothes. A t-shirt that read meh. and jeans. He slid across from Sam and offered a small smile.

“You working today?” Sam asked, stirring the wooden stick into his coffee but not taking a drink.

Gabe shook his head. “Two days off. I have a class later this evening but I came by to meet up with my sister.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah she works here. Case manager and grief counselor. You’ll probably meet her. She’s a total bitch.” Gabe smirked and sat back, crossing his arms. “So you settling in? Setting up shop? You’re not like… homeless, are you? Cuz I have a couch you can crash on if…”

Sam gave a little cough and shook his head. “Jesus um, no. I’m not homeless. I just…”

“You’re afraid if you leave your brother’s condition will tank.”

Sam nodded miserably. “He’s not saying much, which is pretty typical. But I don’t think Dean’s ever faced anything like this before.”

“The possibility of being permanently disabled, or the death of a family member?”

Sam winced and said quietly, “The disabled thing. I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell him about John.”

“His daddy issues as big as yours?” Gabe’s eyebrows waggled a little.

“Daddy issues?”

“You called him John, not dad. Most people, even with rocky parental relationships, refer to their parents as mom and dad. Especially after they died.”

Sam swallowed thickly. “Look it’s… it’s complicated. And personal.”

Gabe threw up his hands in surrender. “No desire to intrude, kiddo, I just call it like I see it. Either way, you need to tell him sooner rather than later.”

“I know.” Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “I just don’t know how.”

“Try, Dean-o, you know that shitty ass accident that nearly killed all of us? Well it did kill dad. Or… John. Or whatever.”

In spite of himself, Sam laughed. There was something about this guy, something different, and Sam realized every time Gabe came around, he felt slightly less crappy about the whole situation. “Well, that would be one way to do it.”

“Just read the situation.” Gabe glanced at his phone and sighed. “I gotta go but I’ll be around probably tomorrow. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat. Something that isn’t hospital food.”

Sam knew he should say no. Hell, it felt like the guy was asking him out on a date and he had a girlfriend and he really didn’t swing that way but… “Yeah. I think I’d like that. I need to get out of here.”

Gabe grinned and skipped off, pouring a bag of M&M’s into his mouth as he went. Sam shook his head and realized he hadn’t even bothered to call Jessica since all of this had happened. He was going to flunk out of this semester, lose his girlfriend, he’d probably already lost his job. But frankly, with Dean lying in the bed unable to walk, his dad dead, and no way to properly deal with it all, Sam just couldn’t bring himself to care.

0000

“Mr. Winchester.” The husky female voice stopped Sam in his tracks twenty feet from Dean’s door. He turned to see the smiling face of that grief lady who’d tried to counsel him the day of the accident.

“Hi um…”

“Naomi,” she said with a small smile. “I was hoping to catch you.” She approached and Sam took in her appearance. Pant-suit as usual, crisp and pressed. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck into a twist, and for the first time Sam noticed a device in her ear, with a wire coming out of her hair and going down under the collar of her shirt. He shook his head and tore his eyes away from her ear.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but…”

“I respect your decision, but I do need to offer my services to your brother. Not just for the accident and his potential limitations, but for the death of your father as well.”

Sam’s face went pale. “We um… he doesn’t…”

Naomi frowned. “You haven’t told him?”

“We thought it was best he deal with his injuries before the whole… death thing,” Sam said a little weakly.

Naomi sighed and noticed Sam staring at her ear again. “It’s a cochlear implant,” she said somewhat impatiently.

Sam’s eyes widened. “So you’re… deaf? Or whatever.”

“Hearing impaired, yes, but with my implants I hear just fine.”

“No but…” It clicked. “So you’re Gabe’s sister. Dr. Novak, the um… resident or whatever?”

Naomi pulled a face Sam knew well. The ‘my sibling annoys me’ face. “So you’ve met him.”

Sam nodded. “Don’t you think talking to Dean would be a little bit of a conflict of interest though?”

“Ah no, I don’t,” she said firmly. “Just because you and my brother have met—”

“No, I don’t mean Gabe,” Sam interrupted. “I mean because of Dean and Cas.”

Naomi’s face went still. “Castiel?”

“Uh… yeah,” Sam said slowly.

“You know him?”

Sam was confused and cleared his throat. “Well he and Dean were kind of, sort of, you know… living together? For a few years. You didn’t know.”

“Castiel is very secretive, but from what I heard he’s currently involved with a woman and living here,” Naomi said.

Sam licked his lips, not sure how Dean would take that news. “Yeah well they broke up a while ago I guess, but they were pretty serious. I guess if you didn’t know…”

“No, you’re right. It would probably be best if I assigned someone else to his case. Thank you Mr. Winchester.” Before Sam could protest, Naomi turned on her heel and left, shoes clicking on the tile floors.

With a sigh, Sam turned and walked to Dean’s door. It was time. He’d been told about his injuries and it was now or never with John. Bobby was still at the hotel but honestly, it was probably best Sam do this on his own. He sucked in a long breath, put his hand on the door and walked in.

0000

“…and he just um… he took the brunt of the hit. I was thrown clear and you were pinned but there wasn’t much… much left. Of the driver’s side.” Sam’s voice was shaking, he felt like he was going to puke, but it was done. It was out.

Dean stared at Sam, his face passive, unreadable. “So I been out of it what, two weeks?”

“About,” Sam said slowly.

“You bury him?”

Sam nodded mutely.

“Okay.”

“You want to…”

“No Sammy, I don’t.”

Sam wanted to argue, but Dean had called him Sammy, and that was progress enough.

0000

“You boys gonna be alright on your own?” Bobby pushed his hat up high on his head and swiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

Dean, who’d been allowed to sit up slightly, gave a terse nod. “Not like I’m going anywhere.”

Sam winced and fought back an urge to roll his eyes a little. It had been four weeks now and Dean was making no progress in dealing with what happened. “Yeah I talked to the bursar’s office and I’ve got a pass for the rest of the semester.” Sam didn’t mention that he’d been fired, but the envelope full of cash Bobby slipped him told him his adopted father knew.

“Alright well, I’ve got your damn car loaded up on the trailer. I’ll be giving updates on her condition but I don’t think she’s a lost cause.”

Dean’s face went hard, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t move when Bobby gave him a light-armed hug, and turned away as Sam followed Bobby out of the room.

“He ain’t gonna make it easy on you, Sam,” Bobby said quietly as they walked toward the hospital’s front doors.

“I know,” Sam said and let out a puff of air. “But what can I do?”

“You can get back to your damn life,” Bobby said, and surprised Sam by actually sounding angry. “None of this is your fault or responsibility. Dean got himself into this situation, and John didn’t help matters none. But no one on high said you had to drop your life to take care of your brother’s mess.”

Sam laughed a little, feeling bitter and angry, but the truth was, someone on high had said it. They’d said it, because Dean had abandoned everything he ever cared about for Sam’s future, and it was the least he could do. The very least. He was just surprised Bobby didn’t get that.

“We’ll be fine. I promise.”

Bobby’s face was drawn and skeptical, but he respected Sam’s choices. “You need anything, you just call. Make ‘em send all that medical finance stuff my way and I’ll get it taken care of.”

Sam wanted to argue, but at barely 19 with no current job to speak of, and only a year of college under his belt, there was no way he could shoulder the burden of what was sure to be hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical care costs. He wasn’t sure how Bobby would, either, but he suspected the old man had his ways.

“Thanks Bobby,” Sam said, and for a moment the weight of what was about to happen hit him, and his voice cracked. He blinked back tears as Bobby yanked him into a fierce hug.

“You take care of yourself, Sammy. You hear me?”

“I year ya,” Sam said softly, and then shoved his hands into his pockets and backed up slowly as Bobby crossed the parking lot and got into the truck. He watched as the flatbed carried away the mangled remains of the only thing Dean loved unconditionally, and Sam wondered if this was just the beginning, or if it was an ending.

0000

“What’s your name again, doll-face?”

Dean smirked as the slightly older woman with severe features and deep frown glanced up at him from his medical chart. She let out a little sigh and glanced at Sam, who promptly looked away. “Doctor Mills, but you can call me Jody if you like. I’m your rehab therapist, and looking at your results here, I’d say we can start scheduling in some sessions.”

“Sessions,” Dean said, and for the first time sounded hesitant. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Mr. Winchester, that’s it’s time to get you back up on your feet. Literally.”

Dean’s face went instantly into panic and Sam involuntarily crossed the room to Dean’s bed. “Look lady, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but there’s no damn way I’m gonna be up on my feet. I can’t feel a damn thing down there.”

Sam glanced at Dean’s legs which had only given a few involuntary muscle spasms since Dean had woken from his drug coma, and he licked his lips nervously. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish with the rehab?” When Sam realized his question sounded like a challenge, he clarified, “I mean that honestly. Do they think he’ll have full function again?”

“It’s hard to tell with spinal injuries, but he’s not going to get any better laying around in bed. It’s been several weeks since the accident and his chart is showing marked signs of improvement in regards to outside stimuli.”

“And there’s no chance of further injuring himself with this rehab?”

Jody smiled softly and set the chart back in the little slot. “There’s always a chance of that. I’m not going to have him running a marathon by the end of the week. This is going to be a long, and painful process. But it’s this or…” she glanced over at the wheelchair Dean had agreed to use for his short trips to the shower and twice to go outside. “That’s up to you.”

Dean’s face went hard, and Sam knew the one thing his brother would not be able to deal with was being confined to that thing. “And the feeling in my legs will start coming back?”

Jody pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Maybe. You need to understand in this situation, there are no guarantees. You nearly died, and your spinal column was almost severed. This is not just a scrape we can slap a bandaid on, Mr. Winchester. You want to get back to your life, you have to work hard at it. You have more obstacles than most.”

“Because of the drugs.” Dean said it with such finality, Sam winced.

“They certainly didn’t help. Your bones were weak, your immune system even weaker, and with how frustrating and painful this is going to be, there’s a very real chance of relapse.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “A relapse? In case you haven’t noticed, toots, I’m sort of stuck in his bed here. What, am I going to steal a wheelchair and find the nearest pusher roaming the halls?”

“You’d be surprised at what a person is capable of when they get pushed to their limits. Your rehab is up to you, Dean.” She pulled a chair over and sat down. “It’s as much mental as it is physical. You have to want it, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life, and you have to be ready to accept your limitations, whatever they may be. And you can’t, and I mean can’t, fall off the wagon.”

Both brothers were silent as the grave after Jody left. Sam stole glances at his older brother, who was staring hard at his toes. His face was bunched up, red, eyebrows furrowed, and it was when his big toe wiggled, and he let out a gasp of breath, that Sam knew what Dean was doing.

He felt sick to his stomach, watching his brother struggle that hard just to wiggle a toe. God, he hated it. But he could tell Dean was determined, and Dean’s resolve steeled Sam’s.

“We’ll get through this,” Sam said softly. “I’m not… I’m not going anywhere. We’ll do this together.”

“Fuck off, Sam,” Dean said in a flat tone. “Just… this isn’t your battle, so stop.”

A lump formed in Sam’s throat. He was tired of being told to fuck off. Of his help and support being rejected. Normally he’d ignore Dean, normally he’d steadfastly refuse to leave his brother’s side, but it was getting harder. And this time, he got up, walked to the door, and left.

0000

“Dean being an a-hole again?”

Sam turned to see Gabe leaning against the wall near the reception desk. His frown momentarily lifted and he shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“It’s common, you know. He’ll eventually have a break down and apologize and admit how much he needs your support. But it’ll take a while, and you can only hope it comes before you’ve completely written him off for being such a prick.”

Sam had to laugh. He really liked Gabe. With everything going on, aside from their quick dinner, Sam hadn’t seen much of him. It was awkward knowing he was Castiel’s brother, but Sam always perked up when the short doctor was around.

“I’ve got an hour lunch. Wanna grab a burger?”

They walked into the burger joint across the street and grabbed a red and white checkered table at the back. The place was full of doctors and nurses, and the waitress recognized Gabe right away. She gave him a flirty smile and immediately brought over a beer.

“Should you be drinking on the job?” Sam asked as he sipped his water.

“Absolutely not but…” he nodded around the room to all the staff who were either nursing beers or rocks glasses full of amber liquid. “No one’s gonna tell on me.”

Sam laughed and ordered a coke and a salad. Gabe ordered the Elk burger with extra bacon and gorgonzola, swearing it was like burger ambrosia, and even dared Sam to have a bite when it arrived. He was very nearly right.

They didn’t talk much right away, while they were eating, but Sam appreciate the company more than he could find the words to say.

“You doin’ alright, kiddo?” Gabe finally asked as the waitress dropped off a dessert of devil’s food cake and chocolate mousse. “You’re quieter than usual.”

“Dean’s starting rehab,” Sam said, and knew Gabe would get it.

And of course the shorter man did. He nodded and sighed. “It’s gonna get bad. What your bro has going on sucks. More than anything has ever sucked. It hurts and there’s a damn good chance he’ll plateau long before he’s ready to give up.”

Sam bit down on his lip and fought back tears. “He’s… if he’d just talk to me, you know? Just like let it out, I might not be so worried. Jody, the rehab doctor, said he might relapse.”

“What was his poison? Heroin?” Gabe asked, and Sam nodded mutely. “I can’t say he won’t, but if he’s motivated not to fuck up again, he’ll probably be alright.”

Sam wanted to believe that, but he wasn’t so sure he could.

0000

Sam preferred to avoid Dean for at least an hour after his rehab. He’d gone to one session before Dean kicked him out when the older Winchester realized he was being taught to walk like a little baby. And it hurt, and he cried. 

By the time Dean had been back in bed for an hour, the meds had kicked in and he was feeling more human again, and therefore much more agreeable. So it became Sam’s practice to go find something to do during that time.

This day, three weeks into Dean’s rehab, Sam froze when he saw a familiar face hovering a few feet away from Dean’s door. There was no mistaking the dark hair, pensive expression, beady eyes, and tan trench coat. Sam almost laughed when he realized the coat was new, in the exact same style Cas had worn it in high school.

“Long time no see,” Sam said as he approached.

Cas nearly jumped as his eyes fell on Sam, and he cracked the smallest of smiles. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“I wanted to give him time after his rehab,” Sam explained. “You go in yet?”

Cas shook his head. “Ah no I uh… I didn’t come here to see Dean. I think that would be a terrible idea.”

Sam wanted to argue, knowing Dean could use more support than just him, but the truth was, Cas was right. Seeing his former lover would likely send Dean into a tailspin he might not recover from. Beckoning Cas away from the room, the pair stared down the hall.

“So what’s up? I assume this wasn’t just a social call?”

Cas didn’t say anything, but steered them into the chapel which was currently empty. Sam felt a little uncomfortable, having never been a real believer in any religion, but it was definitely a quiet place to talk.

“By now I’m sure you heard about what happened between myself and your brother,” Cas started.

Sam cleared his throat as he sat down in the pew, clasping his hands between his knees. “Uh well… no, actually. Dean hasn’t exactly been chatty after the accident, and every time I bring up New York…”

Cas licked his lips. “I see. I uh…” and then he launched into the story of what happened. Everything. Every ugly detail. “As easy as it would be to blame Benny, I take more responsibility for what happened in the end,” Cas finished.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “What? How? How can you possibly take responsibility for that!”

“Because, Sam, your brother needed someone who was stronger than I was. I like to think it’s because we were just too young to be doing what we did,” Cas said softly. “We were both dealing with broken homes and Dean needed someone to help keep him together. I was too busy trying to repair myself. When Dean fell, I couldn’t help him up.” Sam’s jaw clenched, and he was about to defend Cas when Cas said, “The truth is, he needed you.”

Sam’s face went instantly pale. “What?”

“I don’t want this to come across as blame, because it’s not. But the truth was, he needed you, Sam. He did what he thought was best for you and he left. He left you to your books and studies and life, and without you, he lost his purpose. He claimed music was his reason, but that was a lie. That was something he told himself to feel better about moving across the country.”

“Cas I… I can’t believe that.”

Cas let out a small laugh and shook his head. “From the moment your mother died, Dean’s life became about you. He didn’t have to tell me about it for it to be obvious. He was a nineteen year old, second year senior because you asked him to stay in school. When we moved, we weren’t allowed to say your name in the house. But I caught him over and over checking up on you, finding your online profiles and making sure you were okay. I should have been better, stronger. I should have insisted Dean wasn’t ready to up and leave, but I wasn’t. For that, I blame myself. I blame myself because I knew, but I was selfish and I thought maybe it would work out. Maybe he’d see me and realize I needed someone too. But…” Cas trailed off and shook his head. “I’m sorry Sam. I’m so sorry.”

Sam sat there long after Cas was gone. It made sense. Cas wasn’t lying. What the Winchesters had was sickly co-dependent, but it was a lifetime of shit that set them up that way. It was John, it was the road, it was the killer who took their mom’s life. Sam had been a kid when Dean left, still in high school, desperate to feel normal, to get out of that life. He didn’t know what his brother had given up for him. How could he? How could he possibly understand.

He didn’t blame himself. He didn’t blame Cas. He didn’t blame Dean. But enough was enough.

0000

“Damn Sammy, you get laid or something?” Dean’s eyes raked over Sam’s mussed hair and drawn, pale face. 

Grabbing a chair, Sam yanked it across the room and plopped it down next to Dean’s bed. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Dean blinked and then laughed. “Wow Sam, tell me how you really feel.”

“This isn’t a joke, and I realize coming to you while you’re all hopped up on morphine or whatever isn’t right, but you need to listen, okay? Because I’m tired. I’m tired of sticking by you every day, every fucking day, while you send me out. While you look at me like somehow it’s my fault that I’m walking around and you’re stuck in this bed. The universe sucks, and what happened to you is unfair, but goddamn it! Goddamn it, Dean! You have to knock it off. You’re practically paralyzed, our father is dead, and you might not get better. So fucking deal with it and stop throwing me out. I’m the only one who really gives a shit!”

Sam let out a breath and rubbed his face hard as Dean stared at him with narrow eyes.

“I’m not on morphine,” he finally said, very quietly. Sam looked up. “They won’t let me. I uh… because of my history, the strongest thing they’ve been giving me is a couple of Advil.”

“But…” Sam swallowed. “I…”

“I didn’t say anything because I know you’d try and fight for me to have something stronger. The pain is goddamn constant, Sammy. It never stops hurting. But after I woke up and realized what happened I… I can’t. I can’t let them give me anything stronger.”

Sam sat back. “Jesus,” he whispered.

“So I’m sorry. I’m sorry for throwing you out but…”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “Just stop. There are no but’s. It sucks and you feel weak and you’re hurting but godddamn, Dean, let me try and help.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Dean said stonily.

“Yes,” Sam said. “There is.”

0000

“Hey, ten steps isn’t bad, right?” Sam said. It was the first time in weeks Dean had let him stay, and though Dean was white with strain and agony, he didn’t kick his brother out.

“I did fifteen yesterday. But I think that was overdoing it.” Dean grunted as he sat back down in his chair and flipped the brake off. Sam started to try and push him, but Dean shoved Sam off and wheeled himself over to the water fountain.

Sam sighed, but didn’t argue. “Either way, how’s everything feeling?”

“Besides regretting getting feeling back in my legs, just peachy,” Dean snapped as he crushed the paper cup and tossed into the bin. “If I’d realized that feeling back meant pins and needles everywhere, I’d have just taken the chair.”

But Sam could see the light in Dean’s eyes surfacing. He no longer had to struggle to wiggle a toe, and though he said it felt like he was trying to wade through wet sand, he was more mobile than ever.

“They’re getting ready to graduate me to outpatient therapy,” Dean said quietly as they got to Dena’s room. That surprised Sam, as usually he was given a head’s up on Dean’s condition and treatments. “So uh… you know…”

Sam realized what that meant. Dean was homeless. He’d been homeless, living in his car before the accident. He had no job, no money, and now no car. The only place for him was Bobby’s, but in that tiny, one-horse town, Sam highly doubted Dean would have access to the proper medical care he needed. And Dean was far from being rehabilitated.

Sam realized it was up to him. He couldn’t bring Dean home to his roommates. Roommates he hadn’t even really seen in the last few months while Dean had been in the hospital. “No worries man, I got us a place.” The words fell from Sam’s lips before he consciously knew what he was saying. He didn’t have a place, but that didn’t matter. He’d get one. “I figured you’d be sprung sooner rather than later.”

Dean let out the smallest sigh of relief as the nurse came to help him up on to his bed. He grunted, and then winked at her as she walked out of the room, blushing slightly.

Sam checked his phone and then said, “Okay man, you gonna be alright? I gotta go take care of a few things?”

“Yeah,” Dean said and yawned loudly. “I’m wrecked.”

Sam gave a slow nod and then hurried out. He made it past the front doors before panic overwhelmed him when he realized he had little money, no car, no job, and no idea how he was going to make that work. He was fucked.

“Woah there kiddo, you okay? You gonna ralph?” 

It was Gabe, and Sam quickly straightened up. “I um… yeah no, I’m fine I just… I guess they’re discharging Dean soon.”

“I heard that. Gratz,” Gabe said, but he looked concerned. It dawned on him a minute later. “Nowhere to go, huh?”

“Well I um… I have university housing, right off campus. But I have roommates and the place is a sty. There’s no way Dean could live there and uh… he was kind of ….”

“Homeless?” Gabe offered. “Let me see what I can do. I know people.” He gave Sam a wink and hurried off.

Three days later, Gabe came through. Sam was just on the phone with his former boss and had managed to wrangle his job at the bookstore back, enough to carry them on a modest rent and provide food and utilities, but not much else. The rehab center would send a van to pick Dean up and drop him off as needed, but he needed to be close enough to work.

“Okay, ground floor apartment, more of a duplex really,” Gabe said, handing a piece of paper with an address to Sam. “It’s kind of a shithole on the outside, but the neighbors aren’t bad and it’s close to the university. Four fifty a month, if you think you can swing that.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. He had no idea how anywhere in California, no matter how poor the neighborhood was, could be that cheap. That was impossible, and Sam almost choked. “I… are you serious? Are you sure?”

“Someone owed me,” Gabe said with a wink. “And now you do, too.”

“Anything,” Sam breathed, almost laughing as he shoved the address in his pocket. “Seriously, you name it.”

“Go on a date with me.” The request was poignant, strong, unflinching.

Sam blinked. A date. He swallowed thickly and thought about Jess who he was still technically dating. Jess who hadn’t called in six weeks. And Gabe was a guy. But…

“Yeah. Yeah okay,” Sam found himself saying. Being raised by Dean, Sam never thought to define his own sexuality. Why bother. It had never been about that, what was between their legs. And Gabe made him feel good, better than he had in years. But was he attracted to him?

“Great. Saturday night?”

Sam nodded and found his cheeks flushed slightly. “Yeah that works. Just uh… text me.”

With that, he headed out, hopped the bus and reached the crap neighborhood Gabe had secured for them. It wasn’t great. It smelled like cooking tortillas and fish, but the inside was clean and the landlord, despite missing most of his teeth, was friendly and coherent. The entrance had one small bump, something Dean could easily roll over in the chair, and the space was wide. The shower wasn’t entirely handicap friendly, but a chair would fix that and the tub was low. There was a washer and dryer out back, a little rusty but functional, the man said, and the kitchen was small but would serve the boys fine.

Both rooms were the same size, small but livable. 

Sam called Bobby who took care of the deposit and the furniture. Two weeks later, Sam had the keys, and Dean was officially being signed out of Stanford General.

0000

“You know, I never thought I’d be so excited to be sitting in some piece of shit apartment, but damn,” Dean said as he sucked on a beer, a piece of pizza hanging from his fingers. 

Sam had just returned from an over-long shift at the bookstore, but he had a lot of hours to make up in order to make their first rent check. He flopped down on the edge of Dean’s bed and waved away the food.

“I’m beat, man.” It was Friday, which meant his date with Gabe was tomorrow, and Sam was feeling a little apprehensive about it. He hadn’t told Dean about Castiel’s brother, and he knew he’d better do it before it became a problem.

“What’s up with you?” Dean said, knocking his barely functional foot into Sam’s shoulder.

Sam turned onto his stomach and sighed. “I have a few things to tell you.” He sat up as Dean’s face went from lazy to concerned. “Cas was at the hospital a few weeks ago. He uh… he told me everything.”

Dean’s cheeks pinked and he sighed. “He was there? He didn’t come in.”

“He said it was probably best if you didn’t see him. He was obviously worried about you, though.” Dean nodded as Sam spoke. “His brother Gabriel… you remember that guy?”

“Short little son of a bitch?”

Sam laughed. “Yeah. Yeah well he and I uh… well he was the one who took care of my hand after the accident. We’re kind of… I guess… sort of… dating?”

Dean shifted himself higher up, propping himself against the wall. His face was fairly still, unreadable, and he stared at Sam. “So you… uh… I didn’t realize you were into dick.”

Sam couldn’t help the snort laugh and he shook his head. “Jesus Dean, you’re one to talk.”

“Hey man, you’ve been strictly chick since I’ve known you.”

Sam groaned and flopped onto his back, his hands falling over his face. “He’s different. He’s… cool.”

“Is this like a college phase thing or something?”

“Look, I’m not asking you for advice or even permission, okay? Gabe sort of… you know when you were all fucked up in the hospital and I wasn’t sure you were going to make it out of that damn coma, he helped. So I like him. Can we leave it at that?”

Dean threw up his hands in surrender. “Yeah man, no more lip from me. You got it.”

Sam could tell there was more. Sam knew Dean wanted to ask about Cas, but wasn’t going to, and being that Sam had almost zero information on Gabe’s pensive brother, he didn’t offer any. Instead he made sure Dean didn’t need anything and then went to shower and get some rest.

0000

“So I told Dean about us,” Sam said twenty minutes after ordering food. They were at some random restaurant, a sort of southwestern style seafood joint which looked like a hole in the wall from the outside, but inside had a gorgeous interior. Sam was eating an arugula salad topped with fried calamari and was having a love affair with the lemon vinaigrette.

Gabe was sipping on a coke and staring at Sam with a curious expression. “He freak?”

Sam smirked a little. “He was a little confused. I’ve never been out with a uh…”

“Attractive, successful, rich doctor?” Gabe offered.

Sam laughed outright. “I was gonna say dude, but that works, too.”

“I had a feeling that’s where you were going with that, but I’m surprised. You’re very femme,” Gabe said bluntly and Sam blushed. “I mean, no offense kiddo, not like you’re not ridiculously manly. I mean Jesus, you must work out hours a day.”

Sam self-consciously attempted to cover up his bulging arms and shrugged. “Er, no not so much. I just… it’s natural, I guess?”

“I hate you a little for that. Tall, gorgeous, your hair is just ridiculous, and now you tell me you don’t work out.” Gabe sighed and sipped his drink. “Why did you agree to go out with me?”

“Honestly?”

“Only flavor I like, kid,” he replied.

“Because you get me better than anyone. You were the only one who kept me from jumping off that proverbial cliff when my brother’s condition was tanking. And you made me feel better.”

“So it’s nothing to do with my modelesque stature?”

“Well there’s that, but if I went there, you’d think I was shallow,” Sam replied, and this time it was Gabe who laughed.

They sat for two hours after the meal, Gabe having two desserts, Sam lecturing him on the dangers of so much sugar, and Gabe telling him to shut up, “Who’s the doctor here, anyway?”

“Resident, and by your admission, not a great one,” Sam replied.

They got in the car and Gabe started off toward Sam’s apartment, but kept the pace slow. “We should take a drive to the beach.”

Sam’s eyebrow went up. “Nearest beach is like an hour away.”

“You got somewhere to be?”

No, he didn’t, but being that far from Dean made Sam feel uncomfortable, so he settled for a nightcap at Gabe’s place. He was grateful to learn Gabe lived alone, and only had the occasional visitor in the form of either Castiel, or his ten year old brother and sister, but even they were too busy with school and being kids.

It was a nice enough place, smallish, but well furnished, and it was obvious Gabe made a decent salary. He grabbed a couple glasses and brought back two chilled Riesling.

“What is it with you and sweet stuff?” Sam asked as they settled on the couch. He sipped on the wine and grimaced.

“Addiction. Better than crack though, right?”

Sam hummed and set the glass on the table. “This has been nice. Thanks.”

Gabe nodded and then turned to face Sam full on. “So you’ve never dated a guy. I have one hundred percent romantic intentions, and planned on at least getting to third base tonight. Is this like a bro thing to you? I mean where are we at?” 

Sam gulped and shrugged. He was old enough to feel like he was in control of what he wanted and what he was willing to do with another person, but young enough to still feel like some kid at a high school prom. His face flushed and he shifted. “This is a date,” he said. “A proper date. So yeah, I’m cool. With the uh… stuff.”

Gabe laughed a little, shook his head, and set his glass down. Reaching out slowly, with gentle, careful fingers, he took Sam’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together. It wasn’t shocking, or even much different than kissing a girl, though Gabe had very small lips and had to sit up on his knee to reach Sam’s face. But otherwise, it was… nice. Very nice.

Sam felt his arms coming around Gabe’s waist, one reaching over his shoulder to cup the back of his neck, and he responded. His lips parted, tongue accepting pressure from Gabe’s and he felt himself go hard almost instantly. Gabe’s leg, which was positioned very near Sam’s crotch, shifted at the movement and he smiled against Sam’s mouth.

“So I wasn’t totally off base.”

“No, not so much,” Sam murmured. But he was nervous and the thought of going much further made him slightly uncomfortable. He shifted and Gabe let him go.

“No pressure kiddo, I swear. I’m not looking for a quick hook up. That’s not my game.”

“What is your game?” Sam asked, his head spinning a little.

Gabe smiled. “I don’t have one. I just like you.”

0000

“It’s pretty simple stuff, won’t require you to move around much, as long as you can tolerate…” the woman trailed off and shifted uncomfortably under Dean’s stare. 

“Sitting?” Dean offered, inwardly enjoying her discomfort at his condition. He shifted in his wheelchair slightly.

“Right now the hours are part time,” she continued, doing her best to keep going, “and can move into full time after a 90 day probation period.”

Dean nodded and looked around at all the thin-walled cubicles separating computers and phone lines. The soft, almost hypnotic murmur of agents on calls filled the air, like a gentle buzz, and Dean wanted to vomit.

But they were broke. Sam was barely scraping by with rent and food, and his hours were impossibly long just to make those ends meet. Dean was well enough to work now, and the rehab place had a program to get him a job which accommodated his current limitations. He just didn’t think it was going to be a call center. Jesus… but he deserved it. He knew he did. After everything he’d done, this was his purgatory.

“So we’ll look forward to seeing you Monday,” she said, and extended her hand. Dean gripped it, and tried to ignore the stares around him as he wheeled himself out of the building.

He’s be working for the local cable company assisting customers on their bill. Two weeks training, and they said if it worked out well, and he had a computer at home—which he didn’t—he could even make it a full time work from home position. Frankly it sounded like crap, but he would take what he could for now.

He was hitting a wall with rehab. He could barely take twenty steps without exhausting himself, and his goddamn legs just wouldn’t move. There were periods of total numbness and complete paralysis he thought would have been long gone by now, by this damn long. But there wasn’t.

He had to do something though. Sam had filed another form to wait out yet another semester and Dean was not ready to take responsibility for his genius brother dropping out of law school due to his shitty decisions. No. Not Sammy. He would not let his brother down again.

He’d joined NA, too. Six months officially sober, his little chips hanging from his house keys. Sam was dating Castiel’s brother, but he never came by, which Dean appreciated. Every time he thought about Cas, a sharp pain shot through his heart and he just wasn’t ready to deal with that. Not yet.

He paused near the side of the street and flexed his legs. He had to go to the hospital for a scan today, and then he was going to try and get some shopping done. Bobby sent a little cash for groceries and Dean wanted to spend it wisely.

The hospital wasn’t far off, but by the time Dean wheeled in the doors, his arms were exhausted. He’d expected to be a little stronger in his upper body, and he was, but he was still damn tired. He went to radiology and checked in.

“Just wait here. There’s about four people ahead of you, so about twenty minutes,” the bored nurse said.

Dean nodded and crossed his arms, wishing he’d brought a book or something to pass the time. He sat there about ten minutes before he heard a very familiar drawl.

“Well well well, look at you. Sprain an ankle there, Dean-o?”

Dean’s head snapped up on the familiar sight of Meg. She looked the same, too, short, thin, gorgeous. Her heavy-lidded eyes and smirk raked over his body and paused only momentarily on the wheels.

“What are you doing here?” Dean snapped by way of hello.

“Visiting,” Meg said. She dropped down into a chair and frowned. “Seriously, what the hell happened to you, Winchester?”

“Accident,” Dean said gruffly.

“So you actually need that thing?” The tip of her black boot kicked the wheel of his chair and Dean grimaced.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Jesus,” she breathed. “That’s not why Clarence dumped your ass, is it?”

Dean vaguely recalled Meg’s obnoxious nickname for Cas, and he shook his head. “No. This happened after. How’d you hear about me and Cas, anyway?”

“Um well because we’re dating,” she said as though he should have known. “I figured baby brother’s new lover boy might have spilled the beans.”

Dean did everything he could to keep his composure. Cas and Meg. Meg and Castiel. Fuck. He shook his head and smiled. “I try and keep away from that little gremlin as much as I can.”

Meg snorted. “Yeah, same. He’s such a moron. But I can’t believe Cassie didn’t spill the beans on you. He’s gonna have to pay for that one.” She stood up and surprised Dean by dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Well it was good to see you, Dean-o. Don’t be a stranger?”

“Yeah sure,” Dean said, and felt a fiery wave of hatred well up in him. It wasn’t fair and he knew it. It’s not like she came in and stole Cas from under his feet or anything. Hell, he and Cas were over years ago. But damn, it stung.

He barely heard the nurse calling him in. Wheeling inside, Dean had to abandon his chair in favor of a walker, and forced himself to make it to the MRI bed. The nurse hooked up the IV and he breathed through that weird warmth and sudden need to take a leak. The machine thumped and whirred, and began. He spent the entire hour wishing he hadn’t been such a fucking idiot he lost the one thing that really mattered to him.

0000

They graduated him to a walker two weeks later. He’d gone a while without any instances of paralysis and numbness, and they told him it was best to keep the chair, but use the walker. He was getting better. Slowly. His legs moved sluggish, feet dragging a little on the ground, but he was getting there.

He was getting better.

He hated the stares, the way people watched. He knew what they were thinking, what they were wondering. Maybe he was born that way. Maybe he’d had a terrible accident. Maybe it was a forever thing. He wanted to scream that FUCK them, it would get better.

But he didn’t.

It was a Wednesday and he was slowly making his way through the grocery store with one of the little hand baskets hanging off the side of the walker. It was awkward, but they were out of Sam’s favorite lettuce for his pointless salads, and Dean was craving some frozen chicken wings pretty hard.

He headed down the freezer aisle when he saw him. Their eyes locked and Dean froze. Cas looked terrified, like a deer in the headlights right before it was plowed over by a Mac truck. Dean noticed his ex looked really tired.

Finally Cas snapped out of it and pushed his little cart over. “Hello Dean.”

Dean gulped and forced his mouth to work. “Hey Cas.”

More awkward silence before Dean laughed.

“Shopping?”

“Trying to stock my new apartment,” Cas said.

“Oh uh… you and Meg…”

Castiel shook his head. “It ended.”

Dean gulped down a wave of shock and elation. “Oh um. Bummer. Why?”

“You.”

Dean nodded uncomfortably. He’d had a feeling. “You never told her about what happened.”

Castiel shook his head. “Sam was the only one I ever told. She was pretty furious. Rightly so.”

“You don’t even like chicks.”

Castiel cracked a small smile. “No. But I like cooks.” His eyes went up and down Dean’s body, pausing on his legs and walker. “You’re doing better?”

“Comparatively,” Dean said. “Ain’t a picnic, but I’m not wheelchair bound. Most of the time.”

“I um… I’m sorry I didn’t come see you in the hospital.”

Dean waved him off. “I get it, man. Trust me. Probably wouldn’t have ended well.”

Cas nodded and then let out a breath. “Well I should um…”

“Yeah, me too. Hungry moose at home waiting for his salad.”

Cas smiled again. “Maybe we can…”

“Maybe,” Dean said, but didn’t offer him a number or an address. He made his painfully slow trek to the check-out knowing Cas was watching him, and unsure whether or not he liked it.

0000

Gabe’s hands flew in all different directions as he snapped directions at his brother and sister. They were at the zoo, and the ten year olds, Sam was sure, were borderline ADHD. Or so damn cooped up they didn’t know how to express their bottled up energy.

Sam kicked himself for not keeping up on the ASL Dean had been learning, but Sam also never expected to be dating a guy with a Deaf family, either. Besides, the little girl had implants and could hear fairly well now, and spoke clear enough for Sam to understand.

The boy, Samandriel, was profoundly Deaf and didn’t even wear hearing aids. Gabriel said it was Michael’s influence, but Gabe didn’t care how his siblings thought or felt. He loved them all the same. And the way those twins looked at him with abject worship, Sam couldn’t help but feel Gabe was doing it right.

“So your brother and my brother have been talking again,” Gabe said as the twins were making faces at the half-sleeping gorilla. Sam’s eyebrows shot up in response. “Cas was over last night.”

“Huh.” Sam pursed his lips and wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“I think it might be good for them.”

Sam ran his hands back through his hair and sighed. One of the kids signed something at Gabe who replied by tapping the thumb of his five hand on his chest. 

“You don’t think it’s setting them up for a relapse?”

“If by them you mean Dean,” Gabe said slowly as the twins jumped and pointed to a little vendor cart selling piping hot churros wrapped in parchment paper. “Then no, I don’t. Your brother’s in a better place.”

Sam stood back quietly and shook his head at the sweet treat Gabe purchased for everyone. He shoved his hands in his pockets as the twins hurried over to the spider monkey cage. “He’s fragile.”

“He’s determined. I think for the first time your brother has some idea of what fucking up that badly can do,” Gabe said softly. “I don’t think he wants to let you down.” Gabe pursed his small lips and then finished with, “Your brother can be a class-A douche-bag, but I think he gets it now.”

The twins came hurtling up to the pair and Anna made a series of signs at Sam. Realizing he wasn’t understanding, she pointed to herself and said, “Monkey!”

With a grin, Sam held out both arms and let the twins swing from them like little spider monkeys. He looked over at Gabe who rolled his eyes and shook his head. But, he was smiling.

0000

Dean sipped the coffee and let out a small sigh at the hot liquid. There was an odd chill in the air, and the sweater Sam leant him earlier just wasn’t cutting it. But Castiel was sitting across from him at the table, and Dean had his leg propped up on the side of his walker casually. It was a good leg day today. He had a decent amount of feeling and he was getting stronger.

“Thanks for this. I needed a break.” Dean sipped the coffee again.

Castiel nodded quietly, slowly as he stared at Dean. “I know what you’re doing right now can’t be easy.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah not so much, but it’s worth it. Pressure’s off Sammy. He cut back hours and finally got back to classes. Got rent paid, even looking for a better place. My shit legs are starting to get a little better. Docs even thing I might be able to drive again.”

Cas winced a little. It hadn’t occurred to him just how much the impact of not being able to drive the Impala might have affected Dean. “Ah yes. Baby. Is the car drivable?”

“Bobby got the body pieced back together, engine’s getting there. That semi really took a toll on her.” Dean paused to take another drink. “I was thinking about using some of my vacation time to head down to the yard once I’m a little more mobile, get her going again.”

Cas licked his lips and nodded. “Might be a good idea.”

“Your brother still holed up there?”

Cas looked away from Dean and let out a small sigh. “No. He’s moved to San Francisco for better access to Luce.”

Dean’s eyebrow quirked. “Luce?”

“He um… he’s not doing well. He’s responding to the treatments right now but it’s hit or miss with his meds.” When Dean continued to look confused, Cas said, “He was diagnosed schizophrenic, it’s pretty severe. Michael’s had trouble getting him care with people who speak ASL.”

Dean licked his lips and felt a wash of pity for Castiel. Everything he put Cas through, and Cas still had all this family shit. He could have been so much better. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t be. That isn’t your fault. In fact, I asked you out today to express my regret for how things were… handled. In New York.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “Um, what?”

“I should have… I could have…” Cas paused and sighed. “…been better. For you. To you. I should have put a stop to it instead of just leaving you to the hellhounds.”

Dean felt angry. Angry that Cas could or would take any blame for what he’d done. Dean had fucked up. Dean had gotten himself addicted to some of the worst stuff imaginable, knowing damn well how bad it was for him. Dean had cheated on Cas, in his own home. Dean had given up.

“Please just don’t,” Dean said. “I know what I did, we both know what I did. You had every right to leave the way you did. You should have…” Dean paused and looked away, his eyes getting a little misty with regret and pain. “I deserved worse. Than this. If I were confined to the chair permanently it might be more fitting.”

Castiel’s jaw clenched and he took a few breaths before saying, “Self pity doesn’t suit you, Dean.” The coffee date was over, and Cas rose. He started away but paused a moment and said, “I never did stop loving you.”

0000

Gabe rarely agreed to come over to Sam’s place, and only when Dean had a night shift. He was uncomfortable with Dean, not because of his condition or because of his history, but because he didn’t want to be looked at like he’d taken Sam away. Gabe got it. As unhealthy as the brothers’ co-dependence was, he got it and he knew it was the only thing keeping both brothers put together.

He was willing to fit in where he could.

Both Sam and Gabe expected Dean to be at work, so it was a little shocking to walk in and see Dean and Cas going at it pretty damn hot and heavy on the couch. They broke apart, flying away from each other, but Gabe just smirked, and Sam blushed but didn’t look mad.

“I er… though you were working?”

“Slow day,” Dean said, a little out of breath. “They uh, they sent a bunch of us home.”

Sam nodded, his lips still pursed. “Should I uh… start something for dinner?”

Gabe and Sam manned the spaghetti while Cas composed himself and Dean shuffled into the kitchen. He was walking slow, with some difficulty, but without his walker. Sam couldn’t suppress his smile and a rush of feeling like yeah, it was going to be okay. Finally.

“So Cas and I checked out some apartments today,” Dean said as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. His NA group strongly opposed his continued drinking, but gave him a pass considering he was dealing with his current healing without the use of pain medication. He cracked the top and dropped into the scrubbed wooden chair. “Found a couple good ones.”

“For you and Cas?” Sam asked slowly.

“No, jackass, for us,” Dean said impatiently, in a tone that told Sam not to argue. “But there’s plenty of room for you know… guests.”

Gabe smirked a little and winked at Dean who scowled. “Great. Yeah maybe after class this week you and I can go check it out.”

“I was also thinking about heading down to Bobby’s for a week,” Dean said carefully. “To check out baby. The doc thinks I should be good to drive by winter.”

Sam felt a rush of fear. Fear borne from post traumatic stress because being in the Impala had almost killed Dean, and it had killed their father. But who was Sam to begrudge Dean that car. “Yeah sounds good.”

“Cas said he’d come with me,” Dean continued. 

“Good. I think that would be… good.”

0000

Three days later they did see an apartment. There were three small steps leading up to the door, but Dean insisted he’d be okay with it. It was closer to campus, closer to Sam’s job, and closer to the hospital. And it was nice. It was clean. Their neighbors weren’t suspected of running a prostitution ring. It smelled like freshly cut grass.

They signed the papers there and put money down on the deposit. The landlord left them to continue checking it out, and both brothers found themselves leaning on the fence outside on their soon-to-be back porch.

“How’s the legs?” Sam nudged Dean’s knee which held strong.

“Little rough today, but not bad.” Dean was on crutches now, the kind that cuffed around his arms, but his legs were doing more of the work now. “I’m feeling pretty good.”

“And the job?”

“If you’re asking whether or not the bitchy customers are sending me into uncontrollable cravings to shoot up,” Dean said and ignored Sam’s wince, “then no. No they’re not, and yes, I’m good. I’m not,” Dean paused when his throat got a little tight. “I won’t do that again. Not to you, not to myself. Jesus Sammy I… I can’t possibly be more sorry than I am right now.”

“I know,” Sam said quietly and shook his head. “That’s the problem Dean. It’s time you stopped being sorry and started forgiving yourself.”

0000

Dean and Cas were gone for the week. Baby wasn’t ready to come home yet, and after a close call, Dean admitted he wasn’t quite ready to get behind the wheel. But damn it felt good to take her out on the open road, even if it was just for a mile, and even if Cas had to drive her back home.

They kissed for the first time again, right there in Bobby’s yard. The old man pretended he wasn’t watching, but Dean saw his smirk. He ignored him though, in favor of pressing his forehead to Castiel’s, and remembering their nights there back in high school. When things felt like maybe, just maybe, they weren’t going to suck.

“I never stopped loving you, and I’ll never stop being sorry,” Dean said, a rare moment of expressing himself.

Cas let out a breathy laugh and said, “Yeah, I know.”

0000

It was the middle of the night that Dean realized it was the anniversary of the accident. It was cold, winter had hit Stanford pretty hard and unexpectedly. It didn’t snow, but it was damn cold enough to. He still had a limp, but his crutches were making it a little easier as he trudged home. 

He was about ten minutes away when Sam’s hippy-ass Prius came to a stop at the curb. “Hey jerk, get in.”

“Don’t call me a jerk, bitch,” Dean said as he slipped into the uncomfortable seats.

Sam smiled, but didn’t drive off.

“What’s the hold up, princess?”

“I was thinking we might go see dad.” Sam said the words in a rush, and then flinched as though Dean might hit him. But instead his older brother gave a short nod.

“Time to tell that son of a bitch goodbye.”

The cemetery wasn’t far, and Dean followed Sam slowly, minding his steps in the dark as they maneuvered around the headstones. John had been unceremoniously dumped in the ground a ways away from the richer, more elaborate stones. Sam had been right about not maintaining the plaque, but the cemetery maintenance had cut the grass around it. It was dirty and faded, but the words John Winchester shone as though they glowed.

Dean let out a sigh and Sam stayed a few paces away as the older Winchester looked down at the plaque. He hadn’t been part of this the first time, hadn’t said his goodbyes. He was locked inside a coma when John had been put in the ground. Bobby chose the plaque. It merely read the name, date of birth, and date of death.

John Winchester was no father. He’d barely been a husband, barely a human most of the boys’ lives. Dean’s arms trembled as he clutched the handle on his crutch, and he told himself the shakes were from the cold. His throat was tight.

“Well old man, don’t expect me to come here again,” he said softly. “I probably shouldn’t be here now.” He let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. He forgot where he was, forgot Sam was there, forgot it was cold, it was winter, he was crippled. “You know, the funny thing is, I’m actually trying to think of one good memory I have of you. Just one. But even when I was an ankle-biter clinging to mom’s skirts, you were still an ass. You still screamed at me for leaving out my legos, for crying when I was tired, for playing with my Teddy Ruxpin when Sammy was napping. You never loved me. You saw me and Sammy as the things who took away mom’s attention. You were shit.”

Thwack! 

Dean’s crutch flew up and then down onto the plaque. Sam jumped and took a step forward, but Dean wasn’t done.

“You son of a bitch…”

Thwack!

“You left me out there!”

Thwack! Thwack!

“I was five! I was a kid…”

Thwack!

“Dumpster diving to feed a one year old!”

Thwack thwack thwack!

“Forging notes! Lying to schools!”

Thwack thwack!

Sam noticed the crutch was bent, and tears were pouring down Dean’s face. His legs wobbled but he stayed up.

“You told me I was worthless! I was your punching bag!”

Thwack! Crack!

A piece of the granite from the plaque broke off and flew a few feet.

“You told me it was my fault! You said I killed her. You hit me until I admitted I killed my own mother!”

Sam’s heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds. Dean was the only person who’d ever really taken care of him, and Sam hadn’t known how bad it had been. How had he not known? Jesus. Jesus.

“You… you…” But now Dean’s legs did give out. They buckled and he went forward, the bent, broken crutch flying forward, and Dean hit the dirt, his head bowed, sobs so hard he hiccupped. He tried to push Sam off when his baby brother knelt beside him, but Sam wasn’t going to let that happen, and eventually he just accepted the hug and finished crying it out.

“I um… my left leg. It’s pretty dead right now,” Dean muttered as he wiped his face off on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“It’s fine, just… just hop on my back.” Sam rolled his eyes when Dean hesitated. “No one’s around, Dean. It’s like midnight.”

And being that his crutch was destroyed and he really couldn’t walk, he let Sammy carry him like a fucking kid to the car. Sam sent an urgent text as Dean put his seat belt on, and not a word was spoken as they drove home.

Dean saw Castiel’s car though, and couldn’t form the words of thanks, but his look said enough. Cas was on the stoop waiting, and came on the other side of Dean to help get him inside. He just wanted his bed, and said as much, and when the door closed and Cas’s arms went around him, Dean felt like for now, it was enough.

0000

Sam stood in the darkened living room, shivering a little from the adrenaline rush at the graveyard, and out of the corner of his eye he saw movement on the patio. A little suspicious, but pretty sure he knew who it was, he slid back the glass door and saw Gabe leaning against the railing, smoking a cigar.

“Cas brought you along?”

“He thought you might need some company.” Gabe tapped the cigar on the side of the rail and a glowing red ember fluttered to the ground before fading to black. “You okay, kiddo?”

Sam took in a deep breath and ran his hands back through his hair. “I guess. I mean, it wasn’t me freaking out there.”

“No, but by the look on your face I’d say big bro unleashed waves of shit you weren’t ready to hear.”

Sam found himself startled at how insightful Gabe really was. Most of the time he was a snarky, sweets-loving pain in the ass, but he knew Sam. Almost better than anyone. Almost better than Dean. 

“He just um… there were things he never told me.”

“About when you were kids?” When Sam looked surprised again, Gabe crushed out the cigar and crossed the distance between them. “Cas told me. He gave me the run down on your fucked up childhood, and while I assume Cas got the same version you did, I can read between the lines here. Your brother suffered and he couldn’t keep that shit in forever. Especially after your old man bit the big one.”

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I always assumed Dean had to deal with a lot of shit from my dad, but he was just never around me. But sometimes Dean would go missing for hours when he was in town, sometimes he’d come back looking all roughed up. But Dean always hung with the rough crowd, I just never thought anything of it.”

“Which, I assume, is how big bro wanted it. Despite his many, many, many faults,” Gabe said, and smirked when Sam rolled his eyes, “he’s a good brother.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, to agree with Gabe, but found it occupied with the shorter man’s tongue. It was funny, Gabe was much shorter and lighter than Sam, but he knew how to dominate the moose-like college student. He shoved Sam back, the taller man tripping and falling into one of the crappy, plastic lawn chairs.

He let out an oomph as Gabe slipped his legs into the holes under the arm rest of the chair. The plastic bowed dangerously, but Sam somehow knew it would hold. Gabe pressed himself against Sam, both of them going hard, and despite the cold, Sam felt hot all over. His forehead broke out into a sweat as Gabe’s short fingers twisted into his hair.

“Oh Sammy boy,” Gabe murmured against Sam’s mouth.

Sam gasped for breath as Gabe ground against him hard. It was almost painful, it felt so damn good, and Gabe’s small hands ran up his shirt, pinching his nipples a little and dragging his short nails along his hot chest.

“Jesus.”

“Not quite, but close,” Gabe said with a husky laugh. His fingers fumbled and managed to open Sam’s fly, and it was then Sam realized the scrub bottoms Gabe was wearing were down around one ankle.

“What if someone sees?”

“So?”

“So it’s…” but Gabe shifted hard, pressing Sam’s rock hard erection between his ass cheeks, and Sam let out a muffled gasp. “… we shouldn’t.”

“Oh I know,” Gabe said wickedly. He pulled a bottle of lube out of thin air, or so it seemed, and slathered it all over Sam. It was the kind that made his skin go all hot, and fuck, it felt so good. The fact that this would be their first time going this far, doing this much, escaped Sam as Gabe carefully lowered himself onto Sam’s weeping dick.

“Damn,” Gabe gasped as he found the right angle. His fingers dug into Sam’s shoulders. “Daaaaamn.”

“Unf, yes Jesus,” Sam gasped. His own hands, which had been gripping Gabe’s hips, were now clenching the cheap, plastic arm rests while Gabe did all the work, bouncing hard and fast, and god Sam was so fucking close he could barely hang on. “I’m going to…”

“Yeah you are,” Gabe said and sped up even faster.

Sam let out a muffled cry, leaning forward to bite down on the front of Gabe’s shirt and he came hard. His dick pulsed and spilled, and he could feel himself sliding in and out in his own fluids. With shaking fingers, trying desperately to remember what to do, he managed to tug on Gabe enough times to send goopy liquid pulsing from the top.

Gabe came quietly, almost silently, in fact, giving a little shudder as Sam’s hand became sticky, sliding up and down. Sam’s now softening cock popped out, and Sam shivered at the cold as Gabe carefully eased himself up, giving his back a twist.

“Pretty fucking great,” Gabe said with a wicked smile.

Sam almost laughed, his smile tired and tight. He shook his head. “I need a shower and a long night’s sleep.”

“Well you can have one of two, seeing as it’s almost one.”

Sam groaned but didn’t protest when Gabe followed him into the bathroom to join him. They could hear muffled sounds coming from Dean’s room which shared the bathroom wall, but it wasn’t sex. Dean was crying again.

They both did their best to pretend like they couldn’t hear it, but Gabe shot him a look and Sam knew this roller coaster was far from over. But he didn’t want to think about it now. That was a problem for another day, for a future Sam and Dean who were ready to move past it.

For now Sam settled for crawling into his bed, Gabe curling around him like the big spoon, nuzzling into the back of Sam’s neck. His eyes fluttered closed with Gabe’s soft breath against his skin, and he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
